Aroma of Love
by Laser Lance 720
Summary: Hermione didn't believe in soul mates, which is why she didn't expect anything to come from the Weasley twin's newest product; Aroma of Love. Yet despite her doubts, the product may prove to be more affective then she thought.


Written for the **Soulmates Competition** (Dramione, 'It's More of a Suggestion option), **Disney Character Competition **(Eugene Fitzherbert: Write about true love) **Random Prompts Challenge** (8. The Only way of knowing the limits of the possible is by going beyond them into the impossible), **Variety of Prompts Challenge** (Word 1. Butterbeer), **Music Inspiration Challenge** (2Cellos; With or Without You)

Disclaimer: Any and all people belong to J. K. Rowling. That simple.

A soul mate is a person with whom one has a feeling of deep or natural affinity.

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>-oOo-<br>-oOo-

They say that during primitive times, before magic was given to humanity, and Gods ruled the sky, that mankind was whole. That the first humans were created with four arms, four legs, and four eyes… two noses, two heads… one heart shared between the conjoined creatures. But Zeus feared these strange beasts which roamed the world. He was disgusted by their appearance, and appalled by their nature. Above all, he feared that these creatures, these strange beings of love, would one day rise up, and overthrow his reign. Fearing so, Zeus plotted to kill the creatures, but chose to spar them in the end for the tributes they gave. Needing a solution to his fear, Zeus did the unspeakable, he split the creatures apart.

Two arms, two legs, two eyes… one nose, one head… a half a heart, the creatures were severed from one another. Left to wander about the earth, incomplete, the souls quickly began to fall into misery and despair as they searched for their perfect match – their second half.

That was the story Hermione's mother often told her at the bedside. The sad tale of humanities search for love. Even as a child, she hadn't bought into the fable. She was highly logical, and the ideals behind soul mates just didn't appeal to her need to identify and understand the world. There was no truth behind it. No solid evidence of a time when the heart was at its fullest. There was nothing backing this idea of a prideful God tearing love in half.

And all this, Hermione had told the twins whenever they broached the subject the summer passed. Their newest product, Aroma of Love, had hit their shelves of Weasley Wizard Wheezes and had sold quickly. Claiming that by searching the wearer's soul, the little heart shaped charm would detect and identify the place where their soul mate's heart would connect to theirs. And it got better – or so the twins had told her. The charm would then admit a few small puffs of fragrance that were meant to be the representation of their soul mate.

It all seemed too superficial. Too much like a fairy tale for Hermione to believe. It reminded her all too much of the Amortentia potion, and the devastating affects just one drop could cause to a person. Fred and George had calmed her, explaining that their product was not like that twisted love potion. It was safe, and it didn't force/create love, but identify it. Their idea for using the scents as the trigger had sprang from the knowledge they had on the potion, but that was the only similarity. Amortentia created false love. Aroma of Love identified love.

Holding the small charm in her hand, turning it over and watching the light catch on the silver heart in her palm, Hermione still wasn't convinced. She'd only taken one of the charms as a challenge against the twins. Should she go the entire year without either finding her soul mate, figuring out what the given scent meant, or getting no scent in the end, the twins would admit defeat, and stop using her to test the products they were marketing towards girls. Should the product somehow lead her to her fairy tale happy ending, her soul mate, than she would have to admit defeat, and in turn do the taxes for the joke shop for the next ten years.

Hermione had been confident going into the bet. She was positive that nothing interesting would happen concerning the charm. It had, after all, still not given off any scent even after the month she'd been wearing it around her neck. Ginny had told her that she just needed to wait for it to stop searching. That maybe her soul was complicated, and it was just taking a bit longer than others. It was funny that Ginny was the one to make that comment, as hers had; only a half an hour after placing it around her neck, sent out the unmistakable scent of the Quidditch pitch, broomstick shiner, and a third that she just referred to as Harry. The Gryffindor male in question had also been roped into the mess, and had simply answered with the name of his girlfriend, a large smile on his face, whenever he had been asked the question.

Thankfully, she wasn't the only one who wasn't buying into the power of the charms. Ron; in all his loyalty to his brothers, had also taken one for himself. Twenty four hours after putting the charm on, it had admitted three very distinct smells: French Vanilla perfume, chocolate, and pumpkin juice. To say that the youngest male Weasley was confused would have been an understatement.

In truth, both were just pleased his charm hadn't admitted any smells related to her. After their very short attempt to date one another, both had decided to remain as friends. Despite not believing in the charm's magic, the last thing they needed was the blasted thing putting more bumps in the still awkward post-break up stage they were in.

It seemed like the entire school had been taken over by the Aroma of Love craze. It frustrated Hermione beyond belief, and she wondered if it was within her power as Head Girl to confiscate each and every charm she spotted. The Head Boy; Draco Malfoy, had quelled that attempt, informing her that they were only two weeks into their last school year, to not stress over the stupid fad. This coming from Malfoy, had of course caused Hermione to want to undermined his advice and go on a crusade against the Aroma of Love charms even more. She didn't though, knowing there was no way she could be able to get rid of all the silver hearts she saw hanging around people's necks, and wrists.

So she gave in, keeping her own charm close by on the off chance that it would admit a scent and she could laugh at the whole thing.

A month into the school year, and Hermione had still not gotten a scent. At first, she thought nothing of it. But now she was getting nervous. All around the students of Hogwarts were trying to decipher their smells, several of them hocking up with one another. It all seemed like great fun, and Hermione wasn't involved. Ron's mystery girl may have been solved whenever Hermione overheard Daphne Greengrass offhandedly mention that her charm smelt like Shepard's pie, chocolate frog wrappers, and a catch of some sweet smelling grass and old wood. Coupled with the French Vanilla perfume she sported, and the ungodly about of chocolate frogs she kept stashed in her satchel (not to mention the eager to be said sexual innuendo she had made about the Weasley in their year to Pansy who had responded with a venomous sneer), Hermione made a note to send Ron in the direction of Greengrass.

Her charm was still giving off nothing. A month into school, and she sat in the common room of the Head's dorm, charm dangling loosely from her neck as she went to work on the Potion's essay due next week. Crookshanks had joined her, laying about lazily to her right in a mass of tawny fur. He stretched out, dragging amber tinted paws over her leg before curling back into his ball and paying her no more mind.

That was when she smelled it. The unmistakable scent of the clouds, the wind miles above the ground. It was a strange scent, one she never grasped how she knew, but she was familiar with that particular smell. Oh, she knew that smell all too well.

Glancing up from her work, she looked around the small common room in search for her fellow Head who must have just entered. She didn't see him though, nor had she heard the portrait open to allow him in. Silence filled the Head's tower; a clear sign that Malfoy was not there, as he didn't know the meaning of quiet and would have been making a racket if he were. She sniffed the air, finding the scent growing stronger. Glancing around, she tried to find the source. A shirt he'd left on the couch in a hurry, or shoes he's thrown by the bookshelf, something. There was nothing though. Nothing of Draco Malfoy was in the area, other than the fragrance he always sported after coming back from flying.

A second scent hit the air moments after Hermione turned back to her work. She dropped her quill at its presents, only half watching it roll onto the floor and stain it with ink.

Peppermint.

It was so strong like someone had opened a pack of candy canes just under her nose and forced her to inhale. There was a sugary undertone that made it clear just what kind of peppermint she was dealing with. Malfoy had become addicted to them, and she'd been forced to become accustomed to the smell. He'd eat them at every chance he got. With the amount of sugar quills, largely the peppermint ones, that he ate, Hermione was surprised his teeth were even still intact. She swore he spent more time sucking on the candy during class that actually taking notes, which was a big deal for the second biggest bookworm at Hogwarts.

"You have got to be shitting me." She swore loudly. Crookshanks lifted his head to glare at her at the outburst, before curling up tighter.

Hermione's hand wrapped around the charm that dangled from its silver chain to just below her breasts. She pulled the heart up to her face, eyeing it with a deep glare as a silvery-white puff of air escaped it. The third scent was unleashed into the air at the same time as the mist. This smell was one she knew to her core, as it was a scent she herself was always wrapped up in.

The library. Or better described as the dry aroma that came from turning the pages of a book. If there was one thing Hermione had learned about Draco since they had called the truce about the middle of sixth year, it was that he loved books just as much as she did. He had always been her biggest rival when it came to grades after all. The two were neck in neck, beating each other by mere points in various subjects.

It had been books that had taken their truce to an awkward acquaintance like stage, and later into a friendship that neither of them had expected to develop as quick and easy as it had. Draco's love for both Magical as well as Classic Muggle literature had proven to be the bridge needed for them to connect. Many a nights had been spent up discussing works by Shakespeare, Austin, Beadle the Bard, Worple, and others. Comparing and contrasting the styles and stories. Analyzing the sentences and messages that most would think nothing of.

It was no wonder Hermione had gotten so attached to Malfoy so quickly. He was so compatible with her, and he challenged her in ways no one else did. But soul mates? Not that Hermione believed in that crap, mind you, but she wasn't going to leap into Malfoy's arms just because the damn charm smelled like him. For one, they may have grown passed their prejudice and judgment of one another, but Hermione was one hundred percent positive that Draco had no romantic feelings for her, let alone would want to be her soul mate. Scratch that. She was one hundred and _ten_ percent sure of this.

Besides, it was impossible, improbable, and highly absurd that they would hold these feeling for one another. The old prejudice put aside, they still came from much different worlds. She grew up in the Muggle, surrounded by family and love, barbeques on Saturdays, dirt under her nails, and allowed to grow and bloom as she saw fit. Draco, was raised completely different. From birth he had been fit into this mold of the perfect million dollar baby. He grew up surrounded by aristocracy, crisp dress robes, lavish parties and perfect pureblood brides who could give him the perfect pureblood heir. She was the frizzy haired know-it-all, and he was the prince of Slytherin.

They were too different to be together. Or were they? Hermione had to admit, that over the time she had formed a friendship with Draco that he proved to contradict all the preconceived notions she had placed upon him. He wasn't the coldhearted purist who used the world as stepping stones to get where he wanted. He was an intelligent boy, with a wicked sense of humor, a cunning mind, whose desire to know and understand everything countered even hers. He was one of the most loyal person she had met, and definitely the most ingenious.

But no, Hermione thought, it was impossible. Even with the closeness between them, she knew Draco only thought of her as a friend. Letting the charm dropped from her hand, the heart striking against her chest before falling still, Hermione let out a sigh and reached for her fallen quill. She made a mental note to write up Fred and George and inform them that their charms were indeed faulty and impractical.

Before she could do so, the portrait entrance opened up, and the smell of peppermint and clouds grew more intense.

"I'm telling you, for a Weasley product, these charms aren't half bad." The unmistakably deep voice of Blaise Zabini shot through the air as the door close.

"Whatever." Draco's voice was crisp, layered with sarcasm. "Don't you have somewhere to be? Some girl that needs shagging?"

"Not at the moment." Zabini answered. The pair rounded the corner coming into view. A large smirk was plastered onto the dark skinned wizard's lips. "Theo's doing homework."

Draco shot his friend a dirty look, the corners of his mouth twitching as he fought down a smile. "Maybe you should go help him."

"Maybe later." Zabini shrugged. His gaze left his friend, and landed on the Muggleborn sitting on the couch a ways away. "Hello, Granger. Life been treating you well?"

"Can't complain." Hermione answered quickly, her eyes darting onto Draco for the briefest of moments before returning onto Zabini. "You?"

"Not too bad." Zabini responded. "I do have a question for you though. Has your charm given a scent yet?"

Hermione smirked wickedly, "is there a particular reason you're asking?"

"Please Granger," Blaise rolled his eyes, "put that line of thought aside. Not that you aren't gorgeous, because you are, but that's not why I'm asking. Unless you know, you are up for it. I wouldn't pass up a broom closest shag if you're offering."

Draco reached out, smacking his friend roughly on the back of the head. His grey eyes narrowed in clear lack of amusement at the comment.

"Behave." Hermione shock her head at the pair. "And no, not offering. I have a feeling your shagging schedule is pretty full as it is."

"You're right. Theo's got a busy weekend ahead of him" Blaise nodded, a deviously seductive gleam in his eyes. "Now, answer the question. Charm. Smell. Now."

"No smell." Hermione lied. The lifting of Draco's brow made it clear that he saw through her lie, but he didn't make a comment on it.

"Oh." Zabini looked both deflated and excited by her answer if that were even possible. "Too bad. I'm trying to figure out what Malfoy's here means. Maybe you can help."

"Yours went off?" Hermione's eyebrows rose into her hairline as she looked at the Slytherin's wrist where his charm was secured on a thin leather strap. She remembered him complaining whenever Parkinson had given it to him, and forced him to wear it, only for the thing to not give off any scent. Other than her, he had seemed to be the only other person whose charm had yet to work.

"Ya." Draco answered. "Few minutes ago."

"Whoever his mystery mate is," Zabini smirked with much mischief, "they're a total nerd."

"What makes you say that?"

Zabini's eyes were shining brightly as he spoke. "Trust me, if you smelled it, you're first thought would be a nerd. Why don't you smell it? Malfoy, let her smell your heart."

"I don't think she wants to." Draco answered shortly, glaring deeply at his friend.

Not being offset by the murderous gaze on him, Zabini continued smirking towards Hermione. "Come on, Granger. You know everything, maybe you know who his soul mate is."

"I don't think I can help." Hermione answered rather quickly.

"That's a shame." Zabini spoke, turning towards Draco. "I wish you luck and hope you figure it out. Now, I will leave you two. Theo should be done with homework and free for some fun. Bye."

He patted Draco's shoulder, and nodded towards Hermione before turning and heading back towards the exit. Just before rounding the corner, the teen tossed over his shoulder; "I got to admit Malfoy, it's nice having that extra bed in the dorm room free."

Neither Draco nor Hermione spoke until the sound of the door latching faded from the air. Letting out a heavy sigh, Draco closed the distance to the set of couches. Tossing his bag uncaring onto the floor, he dropped into the loveseat across from her. Slouching back, his long legs were bent at the knee, and his head thrown back. Crookshanks took his presents with joy, leaping from where he lay beside her, to crawl between Draco and the arm of the chair. Several sets of loud purrs were given, before the cat leaned against his hip, and settled back down into his nap.

"Rough day?" Hermione chuckled at his behavior, finding it easy to interact with him without thinking of that soul mate finder.

"You have no idea." Draco answered, sitting up and disturbing the cat who glared at the Slytherin. "First there was a fight in the Slytherin dorms I had to break up. Over these stupid soul mate things no less." He raised his wrist for her to see his heart charm. "And then I just heard from Weasel that he and Daphne had Hogsmead plans for tomorrow, all because of the charms, and you."

"Why me?" Hermione asked, feigning offense.

"You pointed them at each other." Draco answered, running his hand absentmindedly through Crookshanks thick fur.

"It was just an observation." Hermione couldn't help but smile at him. "I made logical connections based on what they smelled."

"You can't tell me you buy into this thing?"

"Not really." Hermione shock her head. "It was more the way Greengrass was looking at Ron, and vice versa that made me point it out. I just used the charms as an excuses to do so. What about you? Are you buying into this soul mate crap?"

"I don't know." Draco shrugged. "I highly doubt some stupid Weasley toy will find my soul mate."

"So you believe in soul mates, though?" Hermione leaned forward, supporting herself with elbows onto knees as she regarded him with a raised eyebrow.

"I don't know." Draco shrugged, his tone giving nothing away. "I mean, it's ludicrous, the idea that fate just makes a perfect match and then throws them on the other side of the world. It's kind of a bitch move on fates part. But my mother's a romantic and you would not believe how many times bedtime stories involved some overblown romance and angels of destiny."

"So you believe then." Hermione asked out of pure curiosity. "About the soul mate thing."

"I don't know." Draco shrugged, a hand running through his hair. His eyes were cast on the ceiling, finding a speck of paint to be of great interest. "I like to believe that there's something to it all, you know. Some kind of love or fate or whatever you want to call it. But I'm not going to live my life dying over it."

Hermione was momentarily frozen by his words. She'd gotten used to conversations like these, and the fact that Draco held a deep side wasn't new, but his statement still caused her to sit there a moment, unsure how to respond.

Her response was unneeded, as in that moment, Draco's eyes snapped onto her. "That comment does not leave this room."

Hermione couldn't help but laugh, snapping out of her stationary position. "Whatever, Malfoy."

"I have a reputation to keep." Draco nodded, the smallest hint of a smile on his lips.

"Again, whatever Malfoy." Hermione grinned back. "If you don't want the world to know that you're a softy, then so be it."

"I am not a softy."

"You are to." Hermione countered. She leaned forward, placing her elbows just above her knees. Grinning all the while, she continued speaking. "But that's fine. I understand. You're a Malfoy, word can't get out how soft you are."

"Just shut up Granger." There was no animosity in his words, but a light humored side that had become common during their bantering. The corner of his lips turned upwards, a sight that gave Hermione clue to the switch between defensive to offensive he would be taking. "So… what did your charm smell like?"

"It hasn't gone off." Hermione answered defensively. "I already said that whenever Zabini was here."

"You were lying." Draco was smirking dangerously at her. "Now come on. Fess up. Who've you been smelling?"

"You make me sound like some weirdo when you say it like that." Hermione leaned back on the couch. Crossing her arms over her chest, she leveled the Slytherin with an equally devious grin. "But how about a deal? I tell you mine, you tell me yours."

"Alright." Draco gave in much quicker than Hermione imagined. She half expected her proposal to cause him to retreat, as she highly doubted he'd want to share the discovery of his charm with her (not that she believed the charm could actually do what it said it could). "You go first."

"Oh no." Hermione held up a hand. "How do I know you won't run off after I tell you mine and you don't tell me yours?"

"Thinking like a Slytherin." Draco smirked. "I have been rubbing off on you. How about this, I'll tell you one scent, you tell me one scent. We'll make it fair."

"Alright." Hermione conceded. "You start."

"Apples." Draco answered.

"The Quidditch pitch." Hermione offered.

"Singed hair."

Hermione sat for a moment, trying to figure out who the hell his charm was trying to lead him to before she spoke again. "Peppermint sugar quills."

"An old book."

"An old book." Hermione repeated feeling something tugging at her chest. Silence hung over them for a moment, Hermione trying to decipher both the scents he had given her, as well as the strange feeling her body had given her whenever Draco had confessed his scents to her.

"Your cat."

"What?" Hermione blinked several times, her eyes latched onto the mess of fur that was all too happy to have Draco petting him. That blasted cat had attached himself to Draco the day they moved into the Head's tower. Hermione remembered the first days of living there, whenever she had nearly turned the entire place upside down to find where her cat kept wandering off to at night, only to discover him nudging his way into Draco's arm every night. Since then, the feline chose to be by the Slytherin's side every chance he could. She'd yet to figure out why the cat; one who did not like most of the world, had warmed up to her old rival in the blink of an eye.

"Your cat." Draco's voice was soft, almost hesitate. "The last smell."

"Oh." Hermione muttered. After several seconds it dawned on her. "_OH_."

Draco bit his lip, his eyes cast away from her. He looked so vulnerable, something she had never thought possible of Draco Malfoy. Though, to give him credit, she'd began to learn that there was a lot about Draco Malfoy that none of them really knew. But this? His defenses seemed entirely dropped, his heart beating like mad on his sleeve. And all because of her.

"I mean…" He spoke again, his voice holding a delay, "… I doesn't really mean much. Just a stupid Weasley toy."

"Mine smells like you." Hermione blurted out before she could stop herself. Draco's eyes snapped onto her and she knew she couldn't take back that comment. Mustering up every amount of Gryffindor courage in her blood, she spoke again.

"When my charm went off it… I thought you were in the room. It smells like you always do after a Quidditch game. And then it was those blasted sugar quills, and if you keep eating those, you're going to rot your teeth. Just saying. And then it was the book… there's nobody who spends more time in the library then you and I. I didn't believe it at first, because I don't buy into all this soul mate stuff, but there's no denying that you're who my charm was pointing to."

Silence hung over them. Hermione rung her hands together, refusing to look at him, while Draco only grinned slightly. He stopped petting Crookshanks, who gave an irritated growl before leaping off the couch and trotting away.

"Your perfume." Draco spoke. He waited until Hermione's attention was on him before starting again. "You wear that Crisp Apple stuff. I know because you always leave the bottle lying about on the sink and I accidently used it one day. Smelled like an apple pie for hours." He chuckled for a moment. "You never tie your hair back during potions. I used to joke with Blaise that it was only a matter of time before that mess of hair caught fire. It never did, although there were several times whenever the ends got singed. It was always whenever we were partnered together for whatever reason. The third one was obvious. I mean, you _are_ the Brightest Witch of your age for a reason Hermione. Every time I went into the library, you were already there, shoving your nose into some book like you wanted to be inside of it.

"It wasn't until I smelled your cat though," Draco was choosing his words carefully here, "that I realized it was you. I didn't believe it. I mean, you're Granger. The girl I bullied relentlessly as kids. You're the brightest and most stunning girl in this school and I was just horrid to you, for no reason other than my own ego and pride, and I know that we've moved passed that a bit, I mean we wouldn't be sitting here now if we hadn't-"

"Can you stop for a second?" Hermione held up a hand, cutting off his speech, which had been quickly leading into nervous rambles. "Did you just call me stunning?"

Draco chuckled lowly, running a hand through his blonde hair. "Out of that entire speech, that was all you picked up."

"You've already apologized before Draco." Hermione answered with a smile. "And I already forgave you. That's common knowledge. You finding me attractive, we'll that's not something I've heard before."

"Have you seen yourself, Granger? Anyone who thinks your anything less than magnificent clearly need to get their eyes checked."

"Is this how you flirt with all the girls?" Hermione asked, her voice highly playful.

Draco picked up on her tone and smiled back. "Only the ones I kind of like."

"Only kind of?"

"It depends?" Draco shrugged.

"On what?"

"If she likes me back."

"I can assure you," Hermione leaned forward, giving him a smile so seductive that the Sorting Hat would have dropped her in Slytherin that moment had he seen, "that she kind of likes you too."

"Only kind of?" Draco asked, returning her smirk with one of his own. "I mean, according to the Weasley toy, you and I are like soul mates or whatever."

"Is that so?" Hermione's eyebrow rose. "Don't think that means you can just sweep me off my feet and I'll fall madly in love with you, Malfoy."

"Trust me," Draco leaned forward, "sweeping girls off their feet is an art I have perfected. But I was thinking more along the lines of a butterbeer. My treat."

"A butterbeer?" Hermione asked, her lips setting straight in an attempt to not give away her glee. "Is that an official date?"

"You bet, Granger." Draco answered. "You. Me. Three Broomsticks. Tomorrow."

"When you put it like that," Hermione flashed him a bright smile, "how is a girl to refuse? And who knows, you might end up sweeping me off my feet after all."

And sweep her off her feet he did. From that first date, to the next, to the next, and leading into the date of their wedding (three years later) Hermione was sure of one thing. Rather soul mates existed or not, Draco Malfoy fit with her like they were always meant to be of one heart.

-oOo-  
>-oOo-<br>-oOo-


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